


Temptation

by SnootyMcSnootykins



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley ponders, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Pining, implied nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 18:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19950820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnootyMcSnootykins/pseuds/SnootyMcSnootykins
Summary: Crowley was familiar with temptation. Of course he was. It was he that tempted Eve with the apple, had encouraged that first taste of forbidden fruit. Often he was even considered the creator of temptation.Why, then, did he find himself cursed with it?





	Temptation

Crowley was familiar with temptation. Of course he was. It was he that tempted Eve with the apple, had encouraged that first taste of forbidden fruit. Often he was even considered the creator of temptation. 

Why, then, did he find himself cursed with it? 

Why did his fingers twitch with the urge to run through dove-white hair? Why did his body burn to hold a piece of Heaven in his arms? Why did his mouth ache for the taste of those rosebud lips? 

These questions floated lazily through his mind as he sat precious few feet away from the source of them. Aziraphale chatted easily, relaxed in the atmosphere of his bookshop and the wine in his belly. The conversation drifted from one topic to another as Crowley stole glances at his angel, hiding behind tinted plastic as he devoured each detail he could. 

“You’re letting me prattle on too much dear,” Aziraphale said, as if he had any intention of stopping.

“I have wine; prattle away” Crowley dismissed with a wave, as if he had any intention of making him stop. 

Aziraphale smiled, all wine-warm and gentle, and Crowley wanted nothing more than to capture that smile with his teeth. His eyes lingered on those enticing lips as he drank deeply from his glass. Despite it’s excellent vintage, the wine didn’t satisfy the way it should. It wasn’t what he craved. 

Aziraphale slid across the couch to top up the glass, and Crowley swallowed around the scent of him.

Old books. Tea. The slightest hint of ozone.

Crowley wanted to drown in that smell. 

The tartan collar was between his fingers before he’d even realised he’d reached out. Startled by his own lack of control, by how much the wine had influenced him, Crowley tore the offending hand away.

Aziraphale’s confusion was his clue that he hadn’t been fast enough. “What was it?” He asked, oblivious to the transgression. 

“A bug,” Crowley blurted as he forced some sobriety into himself, “but I got it angel, don’t worry.”

“A bug?” He all but squawked, offended at the very notion of it. Within a moment he’d shed the coat and folded it over the back of the couch with a haunty sniff. “I’ll have none of that on my coat, thank you very much.” 

“It’s gone now,” Crowley drawled, his gaze drawn to the snug fit of the vest. 

“I know, but I’d rather not wear it until I know it’s been cleaned. It’s the principle of the matter,” Aziraphale said. 

“Oh angel, you’re too much,” he teased. 

Aziraphale seemed content to stay in his new spot on the couch, which only made it harder for Crowley to keep his hands still. He had to fight hard against every twitch, every itch, every ache. Had to fight the desire to reach out to touch. To take. 

Aziraphale cast a sceptical glance his way, and Crowley gulped. “Is everything alright?” He asked, concern dominating his gentle face.

“I’m fine,” Crowley insisted. Aziraphale didn’t seem to buy it, if the way he leaned closer was anything to go by. 

“You know that you can tell me anything. I will never judge you,” Aziraphale insisted, everything about him so achingly genuine.

The temptation to grab him- pull him in, touch him, taste him, take him- nearly suffocated him. “Aziraphale,” he pleaded, hardly knowing what he pleaded for. Did he want space? Or did he want permission to give in?

A gentle hand against his cheek nearly broke him. 

“What do you need?” Aziraphale asked, his smile sweet and caring. 

‘ _You_ ,’ Crowley wanted to say. ‘ _You, you, always you. I’d give the world for you. I’d trade my car for you. Name your price and I’ll gladly pay it. Please, just let me have you_ ,’ he wanted to say, but he didn’t say it. He didn’t say any of it. 

He didn’t need to.

For reasons unknown to him, Aziraphale- who apparently had grown impatient with waiting for an answer- had kissed him. A soft press of his lips, sweet and simple, against Crowley’s own. It lasted only a second before the angel drew back. Any longer and Crowley may have burst into flames. 

“What do you need?” He asked again, simply, like the whole world hadn’t just shifted. 

Crowley’s answer came less in words and more in searing kisses and hands gripping tighter than when the world had actually been ending. The angel gave no protest. If his own wandering hands were any indication, Aziraphale had been fighting his own temptations as well. 

Later, when the two lay in a naked tangle on the couch, Crowley pondered the nature of temptation. So often was it made out to be wicked. He’d never really understood that. Now, laying here with his cheek pressed against against the warmth of Aziraphale, gazing up into smiling eyes, it made even less sense. How could something that gave him everything he wanted be bad?

It had to be something Heaven thought up.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Aziraphale asked, his chest rumbling gently beneath Crowley’s cheek. 

“Heaven is stupid,” he said simply, a smile spreading across his face as his angel laughed. 


End file.
